


The Strangest Parking Lot In Town

by gala_apples



Series: The Joneses Get Down [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Rape Fantasy, Roleplay, Shibari, kidnapping kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Jeremy is just an innocent car thief who stumbles upon a situation he'd never even thought was athing.





	The Strangest Parking Lot In Town

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the roleplay prompt for seasonofkink.
> 
> This fic has all sorts of consent issues. Everything is meticulously negotiated between the married couple, but Jeremy didn't agree to be part of this public scene the Joneses are doing. And then, obviously nothing he does has been pre-arranged. If any of this skeeves you out, this is not the fic for you.
> 
> And because Jeremy doesn't have detailed knowledge of shibari, he doesn't think about the ropes specifically, but Michael's tied in [futomomo](http://www.artofcontemporaryshibari.com/?cat=71) and [a heart torso](http://knotlikely.tumblr.com/post/161053048345/shibari-heart).

It’s harder than people think, being a car thief in Los Santos. So many people have custom painted swag cars that it can be difficult to find a car in a parking lot that can’t be tracked by paint alone. Jeremy finds a good one though, a Uche. Quality sound system, ample storage space, relatively easy to get into. He’s on the top of the mall parking garage and it’s a matter of minutes to get inside and get it running. He drives it to one of his favourite chopping locations and, since he recently stopped outsourcing, starts breaking it down.

First step is taking anything personal out of the car. Just because there wasn’t anything in the back seat doesn’t mean there won’t be anything in the trunk. That’s when Jeremy hits a snag. And by snag he means he screams and immediately starts regretting all his life choices when he opens the trunk and sees it. 

It’s not a dead body. That would be relatively easy. Jeremy’s never killed someone. He’s barely even shot at someone. He’s got no confirmed wounds to his name. Still, it’s Los Santos. As far back as high school he’s heard advice on disposal. Even the most placid of people can pick up a thing or two.

No. What it is, is a live body. Tied up as hell, chest to arms and shins to thighs. There’s a gag in his mouth too. A real sound blocking BDSM one, not a makeshift handkerchief or something. Explains Jeremy not hearing any screaming during the drive. And he’s completely naked, aside from underwear. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the _fuck_. 

Jeremy is belatedly proud of his reaction, which is grabbing the guy by the ropes on his chest and thigh and hauling him out of the trunk rather than leaving him or killing him for interrupting business. Look ma, I do have morals. Trussed up the way he is, there’s nowhere else to put the guy but the floor. Jeremy tries to do it gently though. Once he’s down Jeremy awkwardly puts his thumb on the man’s mouth and pops out the gag, realizing too late he could just unclip it at the back.

Any expectation of gratitude is instantly shit on when the freckled man bursts out with, “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you better put me the fuck back.”

“What? I saved you.”

“Put me back or you’re dead. My wife is going to fucking murder you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so antagonistic when you’re incapable of defending yourself.” In the back of his head Jeremy notes that no wonder this guy is married. Not only is he fearless, an attractive attitude in the behavioural composition of Los Santos, he’s also gorgeous. Tan for other cities but pale for here, bulging package behind the only item of clothing he’s wearing; spandex boxer briefs. And there’s no question that the elaborate knots accentuate the muscles in his arms and torso.

“Fuck you, shithead.”

“That’s seriously what you want? Me to just put your half naked ass back on the parking lot roof?”

“Yes motherfucker, are you deaf?”

Fucking hell, people are batshit crazy in this city. But whatever, who is he to argue? Jeremy picks Crazy Guy up by the same ropes he placed him down with, and unceremoniously dumps him back in the trunk.

Jeremy wrestles with his choices as he pulls to a stop on the roof. If dude’s wife really will be pulling-the-trigger angry about her husband being kidnapped, he should be long gone by the time she arrives. On the other hand, it just doesn’t sit right to leave him here unattended. Not everyone has as many scruples as he does. What if the next car thief fucking shanks him?

He’s been idling about ten seconds, morality just barely winning over self preservation, when the trunk pops open. Jeremy gets out of the car, the ability to move offering him a few more chances during a confrontation, and sees a redhead stalking towards them, remote still in hand. She ignores Jeremy for the moment, instead bracing her hand on the edge of the trunk.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“This asshole hijacked me.”

“Hey,” Jeremy protests. “Stole. Hijacking is when you know there’s a person in the car.”

Quick as a wink she’s waving a gun at him. “Nobody asked you for your semantics.”

“Linds. Babe. It’s fine. He returned me.”

“I almost called Meg.”

Crazy Guy whistles. “You, buddy, are real lucky that didn’t happen.”

“So you’re trying to tell me you didn’t get taken, you got... borrowed. And you’re hard. Of course you are. Kidnapping kink doesn’t discriminate I guess.”

“The fuck do you want from me? You knew this was a thing.”

“Well, in that case,” Linds turns to Jeremy. “You wanna have a threesome?”

“I literally don’t know your names.”

Lindsay gestures to herself then her husband. “Lindsay, Michael.”

“Uhhh, that point was part of a larger point? I’m a total goddamn stranger, what the fuck are you two doing?”

Michael scoffs. “You really think a couple that’s talked about, and executed, kidnapping kink don’t have a longer list of shit to try?”

“Jesus.” Jeremy runs a hand over his smooth head. This is all a little fucking much. 

“If you’re not bi, we can work with that,” Lindsay assures him. 

“Or man up and say you’re not interested. But you’re in Los Santos. Standing still and not doing anything doesn’t work.”

In a split second decision it boils down to one thing. Are they hot? It’s shallow, and dangerous, but there it is. If Jeremy wasn’t shallow and danger seeking he would have moved away years ago. The answer to his rhetorical question is very firmly yes, which means yeah, he’s doing this. Doing them. 

“So what, you want me to bend you over the hood and fuck you?”

“That’s hardly kidnapping, is it.” Lindsay hits the car with an open palm. “Get in the car.”

Thoroughly giving up to the whims of the universe, Jeremy gets in the car. Specifically the passenger seat, because, as has been made clear, Lindsay had plans before he mucked it up. He watches in awe as Lindsay calmly drives down the city streets, nothing in her face betraying the secret of the man in her trunk.

When she pulls over, it’s in front of a poorly kept house, on one of the more rundown roads. Between the drawn curtains -of the houses that even have curtains, a bunch of them are just cardboard and duct tape- and the time of day, there’s no one to see Lindsay get out of the car and put a mask on her face. Of course there’s no extras for him, why would there be. Jeremy hopes he won’t ruin the illusion too much.

“Fuck you,” Michael shouts as soon as they open the trunk. 

“Shut up,” Lindsay snaps.

“Fuck you twice,” is his eloquent answer. 

“Fine, I’ll just make you shut up. I didn’t want to have to get this far so early, but you’ve given me no choice.” Lindsay fishes through the trunk until she finds the ball gag. Jeremy doesn’t remember even putting it back. Either he did, and forgot, or this is the kind of couple that owns more than one gag. At this point Jeremy wouldn’t be surprised. Lindsay shoves it into Michael’s face a lot more roughly than Jeremy took it out.

“Hey, you. Help me get baby here into the stashhouse.” That answers that question, about if they really live in such a trashy place, or if it’s just an abandoned house they’ve scoped out and broken into. 

For the third time in an hour, Jeremy pulls Michael’s thoroughly tied body up until it’s braced against him, and begins lugging it where it belongs. In this case, that’s through the door Lindsay has opened, and onto a very old looking mottled beige and brown carpet. 

“He’s not wearing a mask. I am, but my friend here decided he didn’t want to. Think about what means, sweetheart. He doesn’t care if you see his face.” Lindsay pulls her mask half off her face, rubber bunching just above her hairline. “Can you guess why?”

Lindsay bends down enough to stroke Michael’s cheek, gentle for a moment, before kicking him harshly in the side. Jeremy winces. He doesn’t know the rules they’ve set up, but that seems bad.

Except that’s when he notices. Michaels hard. He’s still got his underwear on, but there’s no mistaking that bulge. Getting hard from a kick in the ribs and a death threat sounds crazy to Jeremy, but each to their own, he guesses. More than that, he should really probably contribute, before they starts wondering why they bothered to invite him.

“Haven’t decided how I’m going to do it yet, though. Shooting, stabbing, strangling. Maybe I’ll just leave you to dehydrate and starve. If you want it to be fast, you better be nice to me.” Jeremy kneels and gropes Michael’s cock. “Can you do that? Can you be nice?”

Michael’s blown wide eyes are looking up at him with lust. It’s more reassurance that this is okay. If he really hated this, was a victim, he’d look scared, or mad. Still, he plays the part of scared and meek, though Jeremy’s got proof that in a real kidnapping scenario Michael gets murderous. Michael nods his head to answer Jeremy’s threatening question, and behind the ball gag garbles something that sounds like please. 

Jeremy looks over at Lindsay, wanting to check in that she’s cool with this, without speaking and breaking character. She smiles at him, briefly genuine before turning it colder, meaner. She drops to one knee and pulls Michael’s wavy hair between her fingers and tugs. “You’re going to be so fuckin nice, aren’t you?”

Michaels neck is straining up as he tries to hold his head as close to Lindsay as possible. It’s not near close enough. The pulling sensation must be fierce. Jeremy’s hit with the sudden desire to see Michael tear up. He’s not sure if that’s wrong, but it sure is hot. He wants Michael to feel overwhelmed. He wants him to feel enveloped, encompassed, entombed by what’s happening to him. It’s that feeling, that need to push Michael a little far, that makes Jeremy reach into his pocket. 

Jeremy has never hurt someone while stealing a car, but sometimes impressions are important. Show a big enough weapon and no one will bother to wonder if you’re ready to use it. He pulls a knife out of his pocket, a piece just eye attracting enough to get people on edge to back off. Carefully he pulls the fabric of Michael’s underwear away from his body, far enough away that he can easily slide the blade in. The sharpened edge is enough to slice through the cotton spandex with relative ease. Jeremy cuts the underwear down both hips, leaving Michael unwrapped like a candy.

Lindsay’s been carefully watching his knife work, but the second Jeremy’s done she gets up and leaves the room. Back in only seconds she’s got something in her fist that she reveals to be a bottle of lube. Whatever they’d planning to do as just a couple, it would have been slippery. Jeremy gratefully takes the tube and puts it beside him on the floor. Everyone’s eyes are on him as he takes off his shirt, his undershirt, his jeans and underwear. Michaels legs are tied individually in tight v’s, so tight they’re closer to u’s. Both legs are tied together at the tight and ankle. Pushing Michael’s legs up until his thighs touch his stomach is as easy as swinging a gate on a hinge. Once they’re both positioned he can slick his fingers with Lindsay’s lube and breech Michael. He doesn’t want to take too long on this, but he doesn’t want to actually hurt Michael either.

When Jeremy pushes into Michael he breaks character. He leans forward, hips canting back so he can get his face right to Michael’s without feet pressing too hard into his chest. He has to kiss Michael, sloppy and awkward around the gag at the corner of his mouth. He can’t whisper he loves him, or something reassuring like that. They just met. But he can be soft for a moment. Patient. 

It ends when Lindsay, from the left side of Michael, slaps his chest in the heart shaped gap of ropes. It might physically happen to Michael, but it’s a spur to Jeremy. He starts rocking back and forth, sliding in and out of Michael’s ass, none too gentle. 

The whole time that sex is happening Lindsay doesn’t try to get fucked herself, doesn’t rub herself on Michael’s shoulder or remove his ball gag to get eaten out. She just supports her husband getting fucked by a stranger, and tightens her hand in his hair to ground him in the pain. Jeremy does his part, keeps getting Michael more and more flushed, keeps fucking him hard and deep. Like any good lover would, he makes sure Michael comes before he does. That’s not to say he doesn’t get his own; once come is spilled across Michael’s belly Jeremy speeds up and gets that delicious feeling of post orgasm constriction against his cock. He loves the feeling of fucking an almost painfully tight ass and nothing is tighter than someone who’s muscles have all cramped during orgasm. Jeremy fucks into it until he loses it and pours himself into Michael’s ass. He pulls out quickly so he can witness one of his favourite things: his bottom’s hole clenching and drooling out the spunk he just flooded into it. It’s thick and white, leaving a wet trail as it slides down Michael’s taint and onto his balls. Jeremy would think about taking a picture for posterity, except he thinks Lindsay would kill him.

Jeremy turns from the couple to grab his discarded clothes. He knows how much of a sweater he is. The sooner he’s got his undershirt on to soak it up, the better. By the time he turns back to them, Lindsay’s got all of Michael’s bondage undone. It makes for a huge pile of rope. And Michael’s skin is supremely wrinkled, creased in steady stripes all over his body.

“See you around, I guess,” Lindsay says, not pulling Michael to her, but awkwardly scooting herself under him until she’s curled around his back. They’re not touching everywhere, but maybe he doesn’t want to be touched when he’s sweaty and exhausted. Jeremy could get how it makes a kind of man like this prickly.

“I can’t stay for five minutes?” Jeremy’s never really had sex with someone who wouldn’t let him hang around for breakfast, or a shower, or even an episode of something on Netflix. It’s weird, being booted.

“I can’t entertain you. I have to take care of him, and that’s going to take a while.”

“I could still stay.” Jeremy likes the idea of hanging out with them. He wants to watch Lindsay’s being protective and fierce, like the best kind of girlfriend he can imagine. He wants to see Michael harden from the mush he is now to the guy who threatened someone while totally immobile. That kind of mental and emotional armour is impressive.

Lindsay doesn’t answer for a minute, busy fluffing Michael’s hair out from where it’s plastered into the sweat on his forehead.

“Unless you don’t want me to stay. If you’re trying to do aftercare for him, you probably don’t need a stranger sticking around, someone you don’t know how to anticipate.” Jeremy would get that, if that’s the case.

“We’ve never had any play partner offer to stay before. Usually they’re happy to leave the responsibility to the married couple. If you want to stay, there’s something you could do to help.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy’s eager.

“He can’t stand up yet, but he needs to relax, to lay comfortably. He won’t want me touching him, not yet. So we need to get enough blankets and pillows to make a fort around him. If you go I don’t have to leave him. It’s in the other room.”

Jeremy dashes out of the room, determined to get all the supplies as quick as possible. In what would have been the dining room, back when this place was furnished, is the proof that this whole thing has been preplanned. There’s a giant suitcase full of more than a few comforters, and a smaller empty one he can only assume is for the ropes. There’s also a plastic grocery bag filled with Gatorade and chocolate chunk cookies. They must be for later, once Michael can use his body.

Under Lindsay’s instruction Jeremy manages to get Michael propped up by bedding alone, no hint that Michael is anything but rag doll. He’s pretty sure her next order will be getting the sports drink, god bless electrolytes. Jeremy will happily follow it. He’ll do anything, to be allowed to stay with this fascinating couple. He’s positive only good things will come of it.


End file.
